


God's Blessing, My Ass

by HapticLacuna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, But a cute ass, Deana Winchester, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Genderbending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Pregnancy, Menstruation, Sam's a bit of an ass, Schmoop, Things amaze Cas, always-a-girl!Dean, girl!Dean, so we'll forgive him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:48:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapticLacuna/pseuds/HapticLacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets cramps something awful.  Sam is not helpful.  Cas is.</p><p>Again - Always-a-girl!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God's Blessing, My Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Menstruation Kink - but not like that. Only in that Cas is amazed at the capacity of the human body.
> 
> Yeah. I don't even know.

Dean has wicked periods.

If by wicked, you mean awful. And by awful, you mean that despite being to hell and back, she still questions if menstrual cramps might compare to what Alistair did to her.

They don’t, but sometimes she wonders.

And at least Sam wasn’t around in hell.

“You should eat fish.”

Dean is currently curled up tight in the fetal position on her bed, under the covers in their latest craptacular motel room, wondering if it would be worth it to undergo surgery in order to remove her uterus. 

“Sam, what the fuck,” she groans into a pillow that smells like cigarettes. It’s not really helping her craving for nicotine, which is a bitch to have when she’s also got a craving for beer, chocolate, and pickles. 

Her annoying ass little brother is sitting at the table, on his annoying ass laptop. “You should eat fish,” Sam repeats, slower, like she’s slow or something. “It says here that they’re supposed to help with menstrual cramps.”

Dean cringes. It’s not like she’s embarrassed about being a woman and getting a period or anything, but she is embarrassed when it hurts so much she can’t move, and then she’s just being useless and setting everyone back. And she really doesn’t want to have her brother acknowledge it, and fuck, give her advice. So, she goes with a few choice words.

“Fuck off, Sam.”

“I’m just trying to help!” Sam whines, and without even looking, Dean can tell he’s getting the bitch face on. 

Sam’s going to get a boot to the head if he doesn’t cram it.

“You wanna help?” Dean snarls back, sitting up and kicking the covers away. She chucks the Impala’s keys at his head. “Go get some fucking beer if you want to be so helpful. And some chocolate. And pickles,” she adds, turning thoughtful, before returning to enraged. “And if you really want to help, then why don’t you bleed out of your vagina for five days!” Dean throws the wallet in Sam’s general vicinity, who has wisely risen to his feet. “Why aren’t you in immense pain for five days!? When you haven’t even done anything!? When all you did was be born with a friggin x-chromosome!?” She’s running out of things to throw. A tissue box goes flying, and Sam’s Jolly-Green-Giant arms go flailing. “Why don’t you be too hot and have cramps that feels like your stomachs in a vice and have diarrhea-“ she gets a grumbled ‘TMI’ from Sam for that, and promptly throws her boot in retaliation “-because, damn, this month I didn’t fucking get knocked up!? And, hey, on top of that, you try feeling like your head is going to explode and your little brother tells you to eat some fucking fish, cause yeah, that’s going to make everything so much fucking better!?”

“Hello, Deana. Sam.”

“Shove it up your ass!” Dean yells, and Cas receives the full force of her other boot as she burrows back underneath the covers, fuming. Whatever. He’s an angel. He’s probably immune to boots.

She goes still for a moment, trying to relax underneath the covers, her abdomen seizing just to remind her what time of the month it is.

But then she hears whispers, and oh, is she pissed. 

“Either get the fuck out or stop treating me like a goddamned leper!” she grumbles into her pillow. Then she turns back on her side and curls up, because fuck, her stomach hurts like a bitch. Men have always been such assholes about this. Her dad, unsure that she should go hunting in her ‘condition'; Bobby, embarrassed to even look at her when he handed over the box of pads; in fact, Sam has been the best of all of them. It had been cute when he was a kid – barely eleven, coming home from the convenience store with boxes of tampons and the occasional chocolate bar. But now all he does is act like a know-it-all about her body, and give her unwelcome advice.

The crappy motel mattress sinks with someone’s weight, and that someone is about to get an earful. Dean sits up, glaring, only to stop short at the, Jesus Christ, gleeful look on Cas’ face. 

“Deana,” he says softly, reverently, which is quite frankly creeping Dean out, “you’re menstruating.”

“This is some weird angel shit, right?” she grumbles, hating the fact that her face is probably turning pink.

But that idiot of an angel just tilts his head. “No,” he speaks slowly, and for fuck’s sakes, Dean is not simple! “In fact, it is a very human thing to do.” And Cas, his hand is twitching, reaching out…

“Oh, fuck off,” Dean snarls in disbelief, punching him in the shoulder, receiving only an unaffected Cas and sore knuckles for her trouble. “Please tell me you were not just going to touch me there or some shit, right?”

The men in her life really need to stop looking like kicked puppies. “It is a miracle, Deana,” Cas murmurs, and oh God, now he’s staring at her stomach. “It is proof that you can bear children. God’s greatest blessing to humankind.”

Dean shouldn't say this, but… “God’s a son of a bitch, then.”

Damn. No reaction. Like he’s immune to boots and insults to God. Asshole.

“Dean gets really bad cramps,” Sam supplies unhelpfully. She scowls and pulls a pillow to hug to her stomach. “And PMS like a-“

“Fuck off, Sam!”

Cas listens carefully. “What is 'PMS'?” he asks, still staring at her now pillow-blocked stomach.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” Dean snarls, removing the pillow to throw it at Sam. “It’s bleeding for five days, with your body freaking out on you, and I’d like to see you, oh forever divine and patient angel, be in a good mood during that!”

At the end of her tirade (maybe she’s being a little tough on them), Cas reaches forward, his hand sneaking under Dean’s arms, to rest on the waistband of her underwear (yes, she was only in underwear and tank top, give her a break, she feels like she’s dying here). And Cas is going to get punched, was going to get punched, no matter whether or not it will hurt him, Dean needs to punch something….

But she finds it hard to punch something when her insides are turning to butter.

“Oooh,” she breathes out, closing her eyes, falling back on the mattress. A hand catches her between her shoulder blades, easing her back, but she’s too relaxed to care. Muscles that have been clenching and contracting, tensing tight for days, are unwinding brilliantly. Her headache’s gone too.

She can hear Sam’s heavy breathing over her. “What did you do?” he asks, and she can feel another bitch face coming on.  
“I simply eased her pain,” Cas murmurs softly, his hand still just resting on the top of her pubic bone. It should be weird and uncomfortable and inappropriate. But hell, he’s an angel. If he wants to get all ‘hallelujah’ over her ‘menstruating’, then he can knock himself out. S’not like he’s copping a feel. 

“Her monthly cycle was not meant to cause pain. It is a flaw in the muscle design.” Cas murmurs softly, along with something else so quiet she cannot hear it, and she’s grateful, because she kind of wants to sleep. And in fact, she does.

 

-

 

Dean wakes up slowly, rolling over, stretching out. Her abdomen is still relaxed, so Castiel’s mojo must still be working its magic. She stretches her legs out, cat-style, before sitting up.

Note to self: never sleep again.

There is a literal mountain of boxes on the floor in between her bed and the kitchen. A mountain. They’re yellow, blue, green, large and small, sporting bright typing and soft pastel handwriting.

She knows for a fact Sam would never go out and buy that many pads and tampons, so that means a certain angel went for a supply run.

That certain angel is standing next to Mount Tampon, looking sheepish and unsure. Sam is still sitting at the kitchen table, looking like he’s simultaneously trying not to laugh and vomit. 

Dean would laugh, but Cas just looks so damn pathetic. He’s got that ‘I’m trying to please you, please say that it worked’ kind of a face on. She sees that face far too often, in her opinion. If he wants to please her, he can stop pulling that face.

She coughs awkwardly. “So…” she begins, and at the same time, Cas speaks. 

“I wasn’t sure what…type you, er, preferred,” he explains, gesturing to what looks to be the entire feminine hygiene selection of Walmart , like he’s a car salesman or some shit. “And, uh,” he takes a fucking Kit-Kat bar from out of his pocket. And then, holy fuck, a jar of pickles from the other. That coat has to be mojo-ed up. “Sam told me that you desired these.”

This is by far, the most bizarre period of her lifetime.

But it’s also kind of the best period of her lifetime.

Dean gets up and walks over to the gigantic pile. She picks up a box that makes it sound like she won’t be riding the cotton pony: she’ll be riding the freaking cotton unicorn. She flips it in her hand, looking over to the angel. Who, once more, is staring at her stomach.

“You angels are weird, man,” Dean grumbles, and takes Cas’ hand to press it to her stomach. “I don’t get why this fascinates you.”

Cas’ eyes have softened around the edges, and once again, he’s staring at her belly like it’s God or something. “I, equally, do not understand how humans can be so cavalier about something so remarkable,” he whispers, sounding awed. Then he looks into her eyes, lighting up in a rare Cas smile. “Deana, are you planning on having children?”

She’s at a loss for words – until Sam, forever helpful, says, “Yah, Cas, knock her up. That will save us from having to go through this every month.”

Sam gets a box of tampons thrown at him. As well as a boot to the head. When she looks back, Cas is still smiling at her stomach. Huh.

“Maybe, Cas. Maybe.”

Nine months without periods? Sounds good to her.

But it might also have a little something to do with a certain angel.

**Author's Note:**

> All (constructive!) criticism is very much welcome!
> 
> If you want to follow me on tumblr: happy-haptic-lacuna.tumblr.com


End file.
